


Disillusionment at 3 o'clock

by danveralkyrie (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Begging, Imaginary Friends, Light BDSM, Loneliness, Marking, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Other, Rough Kissing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/danveralkyrie
Summary: In the gravest hours of the night a tingling sensation aroused me from my drowsy state of mind. The deafening silence of the room comforted me, like a soft blanket caressing the bareness of my skin. It creates a bubble around me, isolated from the sporadic cars that passed the street. The darkness blinds me, creating peace in the tension of the room. Faint words crawled along the drums of my ears and send tingles down my spine.
Relationships: original character/imaginary character, original character/unknown
Kudos: 1





	Disillusionment at 3 o'clock

In the gravest hours of the night a tingling sensation aroused me from my drowsy state of mind. The deafening silence of the room comforted me, like a soft blanket caressing the bareness of my skin. It creates a bubble around me, isolated from the sporadic cars that passed the street. The darkness blinds me, creating peace in the tension of the room. Faint words crawled along the drums of my ears and send tingles down my spine. They whispered, spoke words of promises and threat but occasionally scattered comfort in the ridges. The curves and lines of the letters slid down my arms in spirals and bound me to the bed with its intangible force, and I gasped at the sheer dominance that it evokes. I was alone in the room but your scent invaded the air. It punched the air out of my lungs but fed me through the lips, granting me air but just barely.

Fingers ran idly down my skin. They gripped soft and tight, dancing, as if to lure a monster within. They lifted themselves away in a swift caress, and I could hear the laughter that would fall from your lips as I arched to the fading touch. A tease, that’s who you are, and who you thrive as. Blunt and sharp fingernails would fall to the skin like a harmonic hum. They left red traces in their wake, and as they reached lower and lower they halted in their steps, thinking, intrigued. A noise fell from control, high-pitched, almost unrecognizable: wishing, pleading, begging. I feel the nails retrace the red lines that have painted my skin, lighter this time, but not any less powerful. I would feel your weight shift and the bed creaked, a sharp sound piercing through the silence but not the bubble that you have created. It would be nothing but a rumble in the drowsy state you have buried me in. Your presence would loom above me and it would cast an even darker shadow in the already black state of the room.

I would feel the two soft weighs on my chest and your scent would invade my senses. You would kiss me, smother me with marks that you would leave in every surface that you could find. There is a possessiveness, a linger of greed that you would bury in day but let lose in the moonlight. Hands roam around my body, sure but soft. They flicked and pulled and your phantom lips would move lower and lower. They would pass my core to settle between soft skin. Your teeth would bite and pull gently until I could bear no longer. Your chuckle would send vibrations up my core and through my spine. I thrashed against the softness of the sheets and you would swiftly grab my arms and force it to my sides; you would push yourself up and land your knees on my arms.

As silence remained in the stillness of the room, I opened my eyes and I would find your eyes gazing back at me. Dark, stern, a command to the gaze, a warning. Fingers then pry open the core in me, searching, exploring. They fumbled in the dark in a desperate charm, and moisture would cling onto the skin, urging it to explore, to seek the release that I have been starving off of. Frustration morphed into beads on my forehead as my fingers failed to seek that spot hidden away under those veins of nerves. You would hold my hand and stop me in my motion, replacing my hand with yours. Your fingers would explore, searching quickly but in serenity. They would be confident in their hunt, and almost immediately you would find the spot that sends me trembling, lips quivering, begging for more.

Your fingers would be ruthless in its attack. I was thrashing against the sheets, voice breaking in quiet yells. I felt the throb within me build stronger until it was almost unbearable to hold in the overwhelming energy within me. The walls broke and I was pushed over the edge. My vision whitened and a sense of euphoria swam over me as I reached my high. It was a few moments of bliss and quiet and suddenly it was all over. I was on the bed, shaking, trying my damn best to calm the heart that’s threatening to jump out of my throat. You would hold me close as I continued to tremble from the aftershocks, and pass me sips of water when I was conscious again. Words of praise and comfort would leave your lips in easy flows and I would fall asleep with your fingers still threading through my hair.

But the room was silent besides the small gasps of breath that left my lips and the musky scent that still lingered in the air. Empty, cold. I was alone.


End file.
